Broom and her assistant collected all the papers into a neat little stack. She left the pages Des was admiring until last, taking them only reluctantly and watching for any signs of objection as Des seemed to be enjoying them quite a bit.
With all the pages stacked and tucked away in her magic pack for future sorting, Broom was ready to go. She tightened the straps on her haversack and checked to make sure all the rest of her equipment was secured. "We are ready to meet Zandalus."
"I don't think those papers are going anywhere. If you want them, we can come back after we finish things."
The party moved down the dimly lit hallway to the west, stepping carefully around piles of rubble and over visible cracks in the floor. The room at the end of the hall was illuminated by what looked to be dozens, if not hundreds, of candles. The walls were covered in sketches, many times as many as had been in the oneirogens' chamber, but there was no time to look them over.
In the middle of the room, several stained mattresses and numerous pillows had been heaped together to form a pallet-throne. A gaunt man with a ponytail of long, exceptionally straight white hair sat cross-legged on the pallet like a Keleshite mystic. He wore multiple patients’ gowns that had been shredded and stitched to create a layered robe. His arms and much of his chest were exposed, revealing lines of charcoal and yellow chalk that streaked across his flesh, the most prominent of which was a yellow flame scrawled on his forehead.
John looks at man sitting cross-legged in the next room, he looks back to the others, nods towards the man, and draws his thumb across his neck in a suggestive gesture, then he shrugs and cocks an eyebrow at the others indicating a question.
Reine was inclined to agree with John, and maybe even start shooting arrows from where she was standing.
But...
Broom had said, repeatedly, that she was "ready to meet Zandalus," and had reacted poorly whenever violence had been required. Yes, she'd done her part to support and stand with the group, but even Reine had seen how distasteful the small woman had found it.
And Desdemona had definitely not seemed like the kind to approve of flat-out murdering sentient beings. At least, the non-shadowy part of her, anyway.
Reine sighed. She wasn't a sociopathic murderer who just killed people out of hand because it was more convenient, either. At least, she didn't think she was. Some of her memories felt like they were beginning to return, but not all of them, and nothing more recent that a few years ago... maybe? Who knew? Maybe she wasa sociopath, and that's why she was in this place.
What she did know was that, irritating as it was, she wasn't going to shoot this man unawares. The oneirogens had been one thing - they were effectively dead already. Killing their corpses was a mercy, Reine figured.
But Zandalus, he might still be a living, thinking being. Which meant that he needed to be awake and aware of the punishment he was receiving, and why, and not just die peacefully in his sleep.
Reine caught John's eye, glanced meaningfully at the other two women, and then shook her head. She pointed at herself, and then John, then to either side of Zandalus, and placed one finger over her lips to indicate quiet. Then she pointed at Des and Broom and made "talking" gestures with her hand.
She figured that if she and John could put themselves on either side of Zandalus, quietly, then if Broom wanted to talk to the crazy, clearly psycho "yellow prophet," or whatever he wanted to call himself, at least Reine and John would be in a position to take him out once things went inevitably sideways.
Broom suddenly stopped straightening her clothes and adjusting her yellow armband when she realized that Reine and John were looking at her.
Nobody was talking.
She glance between the two for a moment before smiling and nodding. She didn't know what they wanted, but she was ready.
She stood up straight and put on a serious face as she waited for any sort of sign that she could proceed.
A thought crossed her mind "How does one properly address a prophet?" As she waited, she cast her mind out to see if she could find a good way to approach Zandalus.
She found so many different ways that followers of a myriad of faiths revered their prophets. It was hard to figure out which ones she should try to emulate. Since she didn't know what Zandalus stood for, who he followed or what his teachings were she decided to focus on the only thing she did know about his followers, that they wore yellow.
The most numerous of these minds worshiped a goddess called Calistria. Broom's cheeks turned grey as she blushed at the images of the acts that these followers performed to honour their prophets. She couldn't imagine doing anything like that.
She quickly cast her mind about looking for others that also saw yellow as sacred and came across feral and savage images of followers of Lamashtu. These were even worse and coupled the lewd images of the Callistrians with terrible savagery.
Beyond these she couldn't really find any other leads, vague hints and images of a few other religions or cults, but nothing she could latch on to. A little disappointed she decided to simply try and make something up based on the few similarities she could glean from all the different thoughts.
Desdemona had been shaken by the realization of her absorption in the pictures. Was it the shadow's fault? Was it trying to distract her from... something? Or was there something else in play? It didn't even occur to her that such thoughts might even be pure paranoia.
As a result, she'd been quiet as they approached Zandalus' "throne room." The moment she realized the same drawings covered the walls, she studiously looked away from them, focusing on the prophet himself. Realizing that Broom was hesitating, she tried to think of something that might help the dual-minded woman.
All the while, her shadow slowly stretched toward the man, elongating as though the dying sun lay behind her.
While the others readied themselves, Reine kept an eye on Zandalus, trying to determine whether the man was alert or not. From here, she couldn't tell.
Still, once everyone appeared to be ready, Reine stepped forward, quietly. She glanced down and noticed that Des' shadow was moving with her, and a dark smile touched Reine's lips.
John moves quietly down the hallway towards Zanulus.
Des and Broom worked to combine information from the scribbled notes they'd read and added them to the mad rantings of insane cultists and half-overheard conversations of Apostles to cobble together an appropriate greeting for the prophet of a cult and the approached the bed-throne openly.
Meanwhile John and Reine slipped around the walls like ghosts, moving lightly over the rubble as they flanked the leader of the Apostles in Orpiment.
Zandalus opened his eyes at Broom and Desdemona's greeting. His eyes were unfocused and vague, like he was on some kind of mind-altering drug. "Who are you? I don't know you."
Desdemona opened her mouth, but closed it with a snap when a wave of blackness formed in her mind.
DON'T TELL IT OUR NAME, the darkness demanded.
"Our name?" Desdemona squeaked, fresh terror welling in her. Had the darkness taken all that she was?!!
The black tide receded from her mind, and she realized that Zandalus was looking at them. The terror remained, like ugly seafoam on the twilit shore of her consciousness, but it wasn't Zandalus she feared. That made it a bit of a relief to address him.
"Our names are nothing but dust before yours, mighty Zandalus, Prophet, Wizard of the Yellow Fog, Redeemer," she improvised. "Long have we sought to be in your presence. Will you not honor us with your wisdom, and tell us what the future brings?" None of it was a lie, technically. They had been trying to reach him for some time, if not to hear his wisdom. But to hear him speak might clarify whether they stood before a man yet... or a monster.
Broom spoke up after Des. She took a half step closer to Zandalus before timidly speaking "Oh great Zandalus, since the coming of the Yellow Fog We have braved many dangers in the asylum before finding refuge with your faithful."
Broom wasn't sure if she should be looking at Zandalus or averting her eyes, as a result she ended up randomly glancing at the ground, then back to Zandulus and back to the ground again.
"While We were there, the Apostles in Orpiment spoke of their great prophet and We were glad that there was someone who could lead us through these tough times."
Broom faltered a bit, she suddenly wasn't certain exactly what she should ask first.
"But, um, you see, you have been gone for a while and when We wanted to learn more, there seemed to be some confusion about your teachings. So We decided that We needed to talk with you directly to know the True Words straight from you."
That colder part of her mind suddenly brought the questions she needed to ask into clarity. She looked up with a sudden confidence "What is the nature of the Yellow Fog? What is the purpose of the trials and plagues of monsters that We endure? What is the meaning of everything that has happened in Briarstone? And..."
Broom hesitated before almost whispering the last question "... Who are We?"
Shaken to her core by Broom's last question, Desdemona stared as politely as possible at Zandalus, awaiting his answer, unafraid. Of him, at least.
"Most important-like, now that we killed all those stiffs that were breathin' out the yellow fog, is it all going to clear up?"
The white haired man continued to look vaguely in Broom and Desdemona's direction. "My eyes see nothing but the spires of lost Carcosa, where black stars hang in the heavens, where the shadows of men's thoughts lengthen in the afternoon, when the the twin suns sink into the Lake of Hali. My mind will bear forever the memory of the sound of the shadows blotting out that yellow sky, as the Tatterman walks behind."
"Who are you?" His eyes focused for a second, and panic was clear behind them. He managed to choke out in a small voice "Run."
But he didn't go on. In an instant, Zandalus's eyes focused on Broom. Suddenly, his vague expression was gone, a predator's gaze locked in on prey. His languid posture went taut, a hunting cat preparing to pounce.
"How are you here? You're dead. I killed you." The voice was entirely different, no longer a human's voice at all. It sounded like the croak of a long dead man, the scrape of vocal cords dry from decades of dessication.
Zandalus jerked to his feet, another unnatural puppet on invisible strings. "You're dead!"
Without thinking, Desdemona stepped back, preparing to flee - but then words and gestures fell from Desdemona's lips and hands instead, in a language as old as the world itself. Pure black oiled over her eyes, and she thought she fainted for a moment - but when she regained her senses, her shadow was rearing up, enormous and serpentine, all around!
Even as she hesitated, the shadow struck!
"Broom?!" Desdemona cried, half question, half warning, already forgetting the injunction the dark had made.
Defense:20% miss chance in normal light, 50% miss in darkness. Immunity to death effects, disease, and poison. Evasion.
Offense:
Slam reach 10', bite reach 5', increased by 5' each when Large. Melee attacks affect incorporeal creatures as if it had the ghost touch weapon property. The eidolon’s melee attacks deal only half damage to corporeal creatures. All attacks are treated as magic. Combat reflexes (3 AOOs).
Even though she'd thought herself ready for anything, clearly Reine hadn't quite been ready for this. She just stood for a moment, blinking, as something jerked Zandalus' body to its feet.
Then, all sources of light seemed to flare for a second, and a Harrow card appeared in Reine's hand. The Rabbit Prince glared defiance as the card fluttered to the ground. Reine stood, still hidden, her eyes focused on her target.
Broom stood enthralled as Zandalus spoke. For some reason, the places that he named sounded familiar.
His words evoked vague images and half remembered places; she was certain that she knew about this place but she couldn't actually remember anything about it.
She jumped with a start by the sudden change in his tone. Reflexively she cast the spell from the deeps and purplish sparks danced around her hand, but she did not try to strike him. "Zandalus! What's wrong?" She turned to her companions, her voice full of concern "We have to help him!"
"Enough of this...." John growls and jumps from the shadow.
John moves quickly out of the shadows to stab Zandulus.
Standard-action charge:
(charge, power attack, favored enemy)
With Zandalus focused on Broom, Des, and the shadow, John leapt out of the shadows and charged in with Red Destiny to carve a bloody furrow through Zandalus's flank.
Desdemona's shadow smashed the frail looking man in the side of the head as he turned to face John, almost knocking him off the pile of mattresses and linens.
Zandalus stumbled down the makeshift throne-bed and thrust out a hand at John. It felt like his head had been ripped open and someone was stuffing their hand inside his brain.
John grimaces for a moment at the pain that explodes inside his head.
He shakes off the worst of it and jams a quick underhand stab into Zandulus.
"Stay out of my head you freak......"
(charge, power attack, favored enemy)
Reflexively, Desdemona twisted her hands in the air in an arcane warding gesture - but the only thing that happened, to her horror, was that another shadow rose around her, circling her like a shark.
The serpentine-shadow coiled around Zandalus' shadow, slowly constricting him - too slowly. It bit at the other shadow's head - but recoiled, some psychic energy too spicy to consume.
"Don't kill him, please! He isn't himself," Desdemona managed to gasp while keeping her own circling shadow in view at all times. "We might be able to save him!"
Defense:20% miss chance in normal light, 50% miss in darkness. Immunity to death effects, disease, and poison. Evasion.
Offense:
Slam reach 10', bite reach 5', increased by 5' each when Large. Melee attacks affect incorporeal creatures as if it had the ghost touch weapon property. The eidolon’s melee attacks deal only half damage to corporeal creatures. All attacks are treated as magic. Combat reflexes (3 AOOs).
John grimaces for a moment at the pain that explodes inside his head.
He shakes off the worst of it and jams a quick underhand stab into Zandulus.
"Stay out of my head you freak......"
Zandalus gasped as John stabbed Red Destiny up into his belly. His eyes lost some of their focus and he gasped out "Wait... wait, you don't understand..."
Reflexively, Desdemona twisted her hands in the air in an arcane warding gesture - but the only thing that happened, to her horror, was that another shadow rose around her, circling her like a shark.
The serpentine-shadow coiled around Zandalus' shadow, slowly constricting him - too slowly. It bit at the other shadow's head - but recoiled, some psychic energy too spicy to consume.
"Don't kill him, please! He isn't himself," Desdemona managed to gasp while keeping her own circling shadow in view at all times. "We might be able to save him!"
In spite of her plea, Desdemona's shadow choked off whatever Zandalus had been about to say. With John's sword in his belly and the shadow draining the life from him, it looked like the prophet was nearly done in.
Reine stepped up and laid her hand on the dying man's face, turning it to lock eyes with her, as she let her power flow freely.
"Enjoy your sleep."
Eyes locked on Zandalus's, Reine at first saw panic turn to mortal terror. If he'd had any energy left in his body he no doubt would have been screaming in fear. But the torpor of death quickly washed that all away as the slender- malnourished, even- man slumped against John, his heart's blood dripping down Red Destiny's handle to fall on the floor.
Only Broom, the only one not focused hard on Zandalus, saw what happened. The second Zandalus's spirit fled from his body, the air rippled and shimmered like a mirage and a figure in tattered yellow stepped out of thin air and into the world. To everyone else, he simply appeared. Everyone recognized him from their nightmares.
The Tatterman was here.
"Fools." The graveyard voice sounded more appropriate coming from that face. Except where he was covered in tattered yellow robes, covered in dried blood and worse, it looked like someone had flayed him from head to toe. And in spite of the unnaturally wide smile on his tortured lips, he didn't look like he was in a friendly mood.
+4 if it would transport the shadow away from Des
The sight of the Zandalus being killed was disturbing enough, but the appearance of the Tatterman in the flesh was too much.
Barely able to manage a terrified squeak, Broom fled as quickly as she could manage.
As her shadow slipped away from Zandalus and merged into the darkness in the corners of the rooms, Desdemona understood. This was the darkness' endgame the whole time! It was a tool of this... this monster, this Tatterman! She cursed herself for a fool. Why had she thought it might help her?!
Her fear of the dark was greater than her fear of... more or less anything else, but that didn't mean that Desdemona wanted to die - and with John and Broom fleeing, and the dubious protection of the shadow lifted, the Tatterman's presence spelled only one thing. She decided to take the greater part of valor herself, and turned to run, all thought of saving poor Zandalus now gone.
"Reine, you must come!" she called to the angry woman, slightly concerned that Reine's furious nature would cause her to overlook the odds... but not concerned enough to stop and attempt to reason with her.
She's no fool. She'll come with us, she reassured herself.
Reine's eyes snapped up from Zandalus' now empty ones, locking on the Tatterman.
She let out a snarl, and suddenly Reine's eyes seemed to glow bright purple. A faint shimmer surrounded her head, and those near her felt as if their name was being called, although they heard no sound.
"It's about time you showed up," she growled, standing up from the dead 'prophet.' "I will show you the meaning of fear, and you will end your existence with terror in what remains of your heart."
At 3rd level, a dread radiates a palpably daunting aura that causes all enemies within 10 feet to take a –4 penalty on saving throws against fear effects. Creatures that are normally immune to fear lose that immunity while within 10 feet of a dread with this ability. This ability functions only while the dread remains conscious, not if she is unconscious or dead. (+1' per level)
(Save DC is 15, with a -4 penalty for Aura of Fear)
Discipline: Telepathy [Fear, Mind-Affecting]; Level: Dread 1
Manifesting Time: 1 move action (or Immediate Action)
EFFECT
Range: Aura
Target: you
Duration: 1 round/lvl.
Saving Throw: Will save (see text); Power Resistance: Yes
Power Points: 1
DESCRIPTION
You manifest an aura of nightmares around you which reacts to anyone trying to attack you in melee, forcing the assailant’s worst nightmares to consume their thoughts.
Anyone trying to make a melee attack against you must succeed on a Will save or lose their attack action as they recoil in fear from the images inside their mind. If the save succeeds, the opponent can attack normally and is unaffected by that manifestation of the power. Power Resistance applies at the same time as a Will save.
Augment: You can augment this power in one or more of the following ways.
1. If you expend your psionic focus, the manifesting time becomes 1 immediate action instead.
2. For every additional power point you spend, this power lasts for 1 additional round.
3. If you spend 4 additional power points, this power affects anyone trying to attack you, regardless of how (any targeted powers or spells, melee or ranged).
In addition, for every 2 power points spent on the above augmentations, the save DC increases by 1.
The intrepid explorers all wisely ran from the deadly apparition. From behind came that voice, like it was coming from the bottom of a grave. "Yes, run. You can't hide from me."
And then, the familiar steps, a nightmare come to life. Except this time there would be no waking up.
The coldly analytical part of Desdemona's mind took over with her blessing, leaving her to gibber about the darkness they crossed in the back of her thoughts as her main attention was on floor plans, distances, paths of least resistance, likely sources of succour - and possible resources, human and otherwise, that might slow the Tatterman's deadly approach.
Grabbing Broom's sleeve, she ran with the woman, tugging her in the direction of the chapel. "John! Reine! Come with us, we'll be safer!" A lie, but she cared nothing for the truth if it didn't deliver results, not in this frame of mind.
She didn't even turn at the tug on her thoughts from Reine's direction, a glimpse of purple light in the corner of her eye. Summon help, she thought, then dismissed it as another ploy by the dark. For what could she summon, but more shadows? Already, one shark-shadow continued to circle her, while her own serpent-shadow was nowhere to be found.
Maybe once I reach my destination. There will be little more to do but hope, if the chapel does not stop that monster.
Desdemona tore through the asylum at full speed, guiding the terrified two behind her, and trailed by the fury... and the Tatterman, presumably.
Bursting into the cultists' encampment (with a moment's reflection on the wisdom of having donned their armbands before confronting Zandalus), she screamed for the doctor to come.
The absence of the mocking voice in her head was almost as frightening as its presence.
Those relentless steps echoed down the halls as the Tatterman followed the mortals who had released him onto this plane. The party ran through the kitchens and burst out into the Apostles encampment, drawing the attention of everyone, including a squad of Zandalus's bully guards who started toward the group from halfway across the room.
After a few seconds, Elbourne popped his head out of the treatment tent. "Keep it down! If somebody's hurt, bring them over here!"
"The monster of the mists! It's coming!" Desdemona screamed, coldly hoping to frighten people into running about, delaying said monster, and perhaps the bully squad as well.
Broom ran. She ran as fast as she could away from the Tatterman. Even though she knew that there was no way to outrun him her terror compelled her to keep running.
She felt a strange popping feeling and knew that her invisible companion was gone. Had she summoned him to his death at the hands of the Tatterman? That thought made her despair even more and she drove forward, barely even conscious of where she was going.
She almost flung herself over the edge of the broken stairs, it was only at the last minute that the more rational part of her mind managed to quell the fear enough that she slid down the rope instead. Even so her reckless descent left nasty rope burns across her palms and fingers.
Once at the bottom, she continued to flee. Even though her more calculating side wanted to stop running, it could come up with no reasonable course of action against the Tatterman and so had to concede to the panicked thoughts. Running, even as futile as it was, was likely the only thing that was keeping them alive at the moment.
There was something else though, something even more unsettling. Even as panicked as she was, there was still a vague sensation that she had felt fear even more intense than this before. A fear that ran so deep that even in the complete absence of its memory, it had still left an impression.
Suddenly there was shouting and commotion. Other people were around but she barely registered them as she kept trying to run.
Reine ran with the others, though she didn't run at quite her full speed. She wasn't foolish enough to try to keep the Tatterman in sight - especially after the swirling shimmer around her head had faded - but she kept her head, acting as rear-guard.
Some part of her - even while she threw the end of the rope back up onto the stairs, occasionally barked commands at or nudged John or Broom to keep them following Desdemona's lead, and did her best to close doors, spill rubble and furniture, and otherwise put delays into the Tatterman's way - some small part of her almost longed for the nightmare creature to close the gap. It angered her to be running.
Still, when they got to the encampment, and Des started screaming, Reine nodded. She took up a position by the door, bow at the ready, and checked to see how far behind them the Tatterman was.
John's breath came in gasps as the nightmare's overcame his senses.
As he piled into the courtyard, he ran straight over some unfortunate disciple, shoving him into the dirt in his panic to get away.
Reine, at the back, was the only one to register when the footsteps stopped. She turned to see where the Tatterman was and saw that the doors were thrown wide open to the makeshift kitchen with its heaping mounds of potatoes.
The screams started a moment later. "No! Gods! You're not real! You're not...!" As Reine watched, the exhausted looking overworked cook appeared in the door, running as hard as she could toward camp. The Tatterman stepped up behind her out of nowhere, grabbed her by the hair, and nearly decapitated her with a vicious looking war razor. For a second, just as the body crumpled to the floor and the Tatterman stood over his prey, Reine thought that blindfold might have been turned in her direction.
But then he turned away, heading back deeper into the kitchen for now.
"The monster of the mists! It's coming!" Desdemona screamed, coldly hoping to frighten people into running about, delaying said monster, and perhaps the bully squad as well.
That got people's attention. Des was barraged with questions from dozens of Apostles.
"What?" "Where is it?" "What monster?" "How far back is it?" "How long til it gets here?"
The squad of guards surged forward, but panic was spreading through the camp as people shouted to each other. "A monster! There's a monster!" Some of the Apostles started running south, some toward Des and the other explorers, some seeming to grab up items at random like they were preparing to flee some kind of natural disaster.
Doctor Elbourne poked his head out of the tent again as the Apostles' encampment started to devolve into chaos.
Broom and John started to get jostled by panicking Apostles as they tried to keep running for the door.
Seeing John peeling off to the side, Desdemona darted after him, smacking his cheek to gain his attention. Speaking clearly over the raucous noise, she intoned to both him and Broom,"You'll die if you go that way. Come with me if you want to live."
As soon as the doctor was within reach, Desdemona grabbed him by the lapels. When she spoke, her voice was low and even. "They're frightened out of their minds, and the monster is coming. It will kill us all without them. They need your help to regain their senses."
John shoves two poor souls out of the way and follows DEs.
"We have to get out of here...."
As he turned to go, Reine lifted her bow and let fly with an arrow. She wasn't quite ready for him to come after her, but she wasn't ready to let him just slaughter everyone with complete impunity.
As soon as she had let fly, she closed the door.
"He's in the kitchen," she called to the others as she backed away from the door. "Once he's done in there, he'll be in here!"
Broom recognized Des' voice, but kept running through the camp towards the door to the South, anything to get away from the Tatterman.